Heavy and Heavier
by DarkestWolfx
Summary: He didn't even want to think about it, but it stopped him from sleeping, because he couldn't help thinking on it. It was just another reason for a sleepless night, and they'd only ever had one cure. Spoilers for 'The Man from TB5' (11/11/17).


Just a little piece I was inspired to write. We didn't see too much of Scott and I loved having John on Earth and this just kind of happened. Enjoy. (I hope).

Several quotes also inspired this.

* * *

' _Sleeping is so hard when you can't stop thinking'._

* * *

' _I hope you think of me at 4 am when you are lonely. When you wonder why you are sad. Just know that I am missing you as much as you miss me.'_

* * *

' _My eyelids are heavy, but my thoughts are heavier.'_

* * *

It was dark over the Pacific. It was funny, after all these years and he still wasn't to just how much darker the evenings were. It made sense, and John had explained it to him many a time (usually when he'd not picked up on the joking element) and the reasoning made perfect sense. There'd just been so many lights on at all hours, across the shores in the cities of America. Out here, the only lights at night were form the moon and stars. They didn't use the pool lights unless they were sat out there late, so it was usually dark when you looked out the windows.

He didn't even bother waiting for his eyes to open. He simply reached an arm back lazily, yet with great speed, to flick on his lamp. The soft glow bounced off the wall and he dropped his hand back onto the covers. He felt strangely cold, so getting up wasn't in his bank of ideas. He'd just lay here until sleep decided to return to him.

 _Sleep._

His eyes were heavy, but his mind was the greater weight. It felt like he'd been asleep for ten minutes, and unlike when Gordon said that and it meant hours, he was sure he only _had_ been sleeping for ten.

He took a deep breath, glad he was the only one to hear it quivering when he exhaled.

Sleep would definitely be nice, even though it would break his record of having slept _without_ the light. The record that used to be years' worth, because darkness had never bothered him. The best in recent times was a month, if he recalled it right. And it was strange, because he still didn't _fear_ the dark.

He tried to think lightly through things that made him smile, things that made him calm, things that would confuse him and eventually shut his mind down by baffled force.

It didn't work. He could only think about the most recent things.

Things like John hanging from Thunderbird One's grapple as he'd desperately tried to _latch_ onto _something,_ anything: _him._ That's was the only thing he'd wanted. Damn, however much that Chateau had cost to build. He'd send them a cheque.

They couldn't send him a new brother.

He shivered at the thought, violently sitting up bolt straight, but not daring to open his eyes.

If he opened them, he'd never sleep. He wasn't going to do himself in just yet, no, there was still time before he had to give up and bury himself in a coffin.

He sat there a minute, took a few sets of calming breathes and decided it was worth trying again. So he threw himself back down, head hitting the pillow, eyes bunching tightly shut.

 _Sleep, Scott._

He knew he needed to.

And he began to do well as he focused on his breathing, of their Grandma's very old suggestion of the counting sheep technique. It was easy really, sleeping, mere child's play, something adults didn't or shouldn't struggle with.

But then sheep became seconds, and he could feel the nudge of his mind, protesting at being sent into slumber. He groaned. The longer he was awake, the more time he had for thoughts to develop and it was a dangerous path to walk – as dangerous as their day-to-day lives, really, maybe more so. His mind was a danger zone in itself form which _he_ needed rescuing.

 _Stop. Thinking, Scott._

He just needed to sleep. So he went back to the basics. Think about the things which make you smile. Well there had to be Gordon, whining at not being able to go to the party, Alan dropping his damned tablet the other day because he refused to put it down for a second in order to walk to the kitchen for dinner. Oh, Virgil going shopping with Grandma today (again, yes he'd managed to sneak his way into getting that one to work), despite the _'damn you'_ Virgil had mouthed as he left for Thunderbird Two. He'd simply waved. Virgil had stuck his tongue out at him. It was childish really, one of the rare times he let slip the adult, the _leader_ he'd had to become when-

 _No, don't dare go there!_

Every warning light in mind screamed reverse, especially if he wanted any chance at beckoning sleep.

So, childish. EOS had to win that competition hands down now. He still didn't know the full details, but he'd heard something of the challenges she'd given to the youngest pair and overheard Gordon muttering something about how his hair 'was to stylish'. Clearly he'd missed an interesting day up on Thunderbird Five. And of course, that lead to space, and stars, and the moon, and John, happy again now in his high up, near-solitary sanctuary.

John who only hours ago had been doing remarkably well at adjusting to gravity again for the first time in a long time. Or maybe, at least until he ended up falling through the air, only to land on a wire.

He'd taken pity on John when he spoke, the fatal mistake first and then really, he just needed the humour to recover himself from the precipice of hideous thought. Besides, the red-head had said it, he was the one who had put his foot in it.

' _Just put me down anywhere.'_

 _Anywhere, John, really?_ He'd thought briefly and then he just couldn't resist trying it, in the hope of seeing a touch of normality return.

' _Anywhere... Anywhere but here.'_

But the look on John's face, the way he tried to scramble upwards, it was enough to tell him it wasn't really funny. So he took John him, pulled the grapple up into the cargo bay and took his first little brother home on his own accord. After fishing FAB One out of the sea, of course.

At least it was just a car though and not- _NO!_

He shook his head several times, his ear scrapping against the pillow. It was a horrible sound. He stopped, taking another breathe and decided to think through something else instead. The flight controls of Thunderbird One? No, too close to today's events; somehow it would just end up leading back. Um, Virgil and Grandma's shopping list? No, he'd be up for hours. Gordon and Alan and EOS'… whatever the right word for it was? (Debacle, that's what John would probably use). But no, that had too many possible outcomes and he'd probably end up with hiccups for laughing so much, which would serve him right most likely.

He was tempted to turn the light off again and just try the old-fashioned approach of telling your mind to sleep, but he didn't think it would help any without the soft glow. Not that it was exactly helping any _with._ So he went for the next most straight forward thing. After all, Dad had always sworn by it, apparently you always fell asleep before you reached a hundred.

 _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five…_

That was higher than he'd wanted to count.

 _Grief, how long did this blinking method take!_ He might as well just think about something else. _Thanks for the tip, Dad._

Speaking of Dad…

After the whole fiasco (and according to John, likely because she didn't want to give them to the man named Bottomsley, whatever he agreed to pay), Lady Penelope gave them back the pilot wings. They'd always been the family's, but after today he made his own choice and tactfully slid the box into John's hands whilst they waited for the space elevator EOS was actually agreeing to send down. As soon as the smooth wood hit his palms, John had turned to him with confusion.

"Scott, what-"

"Take them."

John's grip on the box didn't increase, so he didn't remove his, just continued to press it into his younger brother's palms.

"But-"

" _Take them_." He was insisting, he wasn't giving up. He _wanted_ John to have them.

"I can't."

" _John_." And with that, the red-head actually accepted them, no protest not even when his lips moved again.

"Scott."

The space elevator arrived so nothing else was said, but they shared a smile as John departed. The eldest believed in those moments the younger truly understood without explanation. He'd only spoken to his brother a little while ago and he still missed him more than he'd thought would be possible after mere hours.

 _Oh damn it!_

He'd completely side-tracked now, and suddenly, inexplicably, he felt like crying. He hadn't even thought he was _sad_.

 _Double damn it._

It just wasn't his night. He turned over again, trying to avoid the light as best as possible, considering he was moving into its path. Maybe he'd be able to sleep now he'd changed positions or maybe feeling the heat from the light on his face would warm him up enough to stop feeling so blinking cold, or…

"Ohh..!"

He knew really, sleep wasn't going to come.

Truthfully, he'd known that all this time.

He almost growled as he through the covers back, his feet like ice as he practically hit the floor running. He'd grown accustomed to walking through the house in the dark recently during the sheer amount of late nights he'd had and so didn't bother to turn on the lights. It would save waking his brother's that was for sure.

He was still surprised though when he didn't stumble once, because really, he was dead weight walking on feet. He could collapse right here and now, and he _still_ didn't think he fall asleep. Certainly not for long enough to class it as such.

The lounge was just as cold and dark, but the low light coming from their father's desk was warming enough, like the dying embers of a camp fire. He flicked the small lights on as he made his way in before throwing himself down onto the sofa, not even bothering to try the stairs. He'd probably only end up breaking his leg after all, considering he could barely see straight anymore with exhaustion. He yawned as he stuck his feet up on the arm and just wished he'd never had to resort to _this_.

But sleep wasn't going to come, not through lack of trying.

He didn't even _want_ to think about it, but it stopped him from sleeping, because he couldn't _help_ thinking on it. It was just another reason for a sleepless night, and they'd only ever had one cure.

That didn't change because they were once rare occasions, or by the bigger divide, the larger issue: his closest brother in age moving up to space. No, his confident was a call away. He just didn't like to _have_ to call.

"John..." He still had time to back out, but he couldn't. He needed to see him. "Are you awake?"

The holographic version appeared.

 _I wish you were here._

It would have to do. _It was John,_ in the flesh or no, and that was what mattered. In fact, you could tell it was John, because he looked as chipper as anyone could when they been supposedly woken up. That was something John had never taken issue with. Being a light sleeper anyway, he'd often woken first if ever there was a problem of a night.

"Good morning Scott."

He was about to return the greeting before he properly processed the words, and tried to blink himself back into a state of full awareness.

"Is it morning?" John nodded. "What ungodly hour? Wait- do I even want to know?"

John seemed to mull this over before shaking his head. "No."

This silence was finally comfortable, but still sleep did not pull or call for him.

He groaned a new. He knew he must sound like an old man. It didn't bother him for once. He wasn't sure anyone walking in at this moment would even bother him. Gordon taking a photo might just manage to push it. He wondered if John had simply chosen not to comment on his current position: laid out on the sofa in his pyjamas with his feet up, with a face pale and worn. Or maybe this was similar to how he always ended up looking when they had _these_ conversations and the spaceman had simply gone past seeing it for what it was.

"What's on your mind?"

 _How_? He still marvelled at how John could see those little details - well, the ones calling him at whatever forsaken hour it was, didn't already give over.

Still, he went for blasé. It was sometimes the best approach. If John took issue with it, he'd probably manage to tug it out of him at some point anyway. Especially when he was this tired and his brain practically on the verge of shut down. "Oh, you know, just life."

"Any particular part?"

He sighed. They'd be here for hours if he answered that completely truthfully. Then, on the other hand, they'd probably end up here for hours anyway, and it wasn't looking like he was going to get any sleep. What harm could it do?

"I want to apologise." And hopefully here would be issue number one out of the way.

John's brow moved into a perfect epitome for confusion as he blinked, "For what?"

"Well, I kind of badgered you into going with Lady Penelope as well."

"Scott, you gave me some advice, but I didn't go because _you_ told me too." After a moment, John seemed to take issue with his own sentence, if the return of the frown told him anything. But then again, what did he and his sleep-addled ( _as if!_ ) brain know? "No offence."

"Course not."

"I went in the end because I was promised 'little' and 'quiet'." He had to scoff. Why John had ever believed that would be true he had no clue, but then John had always wanted to believe the best of people.

He yawned again, becoming aware of how much he really _yearned_ for sleep to beckon.

"Happy now?"

"Extremely." He could see that answer reflected in his brother's expression too.

"How's EOS doing?" He only asked for conversation. John shrugged.

"She's a little put down, but only because she feared I wasn't coming back, _not_ because I told her off for all those antics."

He wondered if John had the full story, or if EOS had excluded parts for her own benefit… He'd love to have been a fly on the wall to Gordon and Alan's day. But for now he tried humour – or at least, whatever the best equivalent for that was with how he felt right now. It sounded quite dry, but John didn't seem to mind.

"Well, I see Dad taught us the best parenting skills."

"I think he was intending for them to be used on humans, Scott. Not incredibly smart self-programmed AI's."

He thought on that one for a moment, until he realised that if he was in John's place, EOS would probably be parenting _him_. "Fair enough."

"Are you talking about me?"

"Not a word, EOS." John called back to the quiet, childlike voice who seemed to chuckle in complete disbelief, but let it go.

He blinked again, why he wasn't entirely sure, because his eyes weren't getting heavy with sleep yet. _Just heavy_.

"Does she always listen in?"

"Only if she hears a word off her top ten list." He decided he wasn't even going to ask. John clearly decided that it wasn't crucial or worth him knowing and threw out a completely new direction for them to follow, "Scott, are you going to bed anytime soon?"

"I've been to bed." He gestured – or at least was sure he did, though his arms felt like lumps of lead, which didn't seem to have moved – to his attire.

"Liar."

"I'm not!" It was childish he knew. (He didn't care in the slightest).

"You are."

"Not. I-"

"Are. Really, lying in bed does _not_ count."

"Well..." His tired brain was struggling to think of a good counter-comment, until he noticed the obvious. _Which really, Scott, took you far too long!_ "You're not in bed."

John simply raised a brow. He dropped it straight away.

The silence fell again. He kept waiting for John to say anything as tried to keep his eyes shut, but he wasn't even sure if the younger was still there.

 _Idiot, of course he is._ After all, there were few places he could go.

 _Well, he could have-_

 _Backtrack_!

He was way too tired for any of this. If John could say something sometime soon he was sure he'd be safely away from the terrifying brink again. Or of course, he could bring himself back. Likely, that was what John was waiting for, for him to state the problems first. The red-head was doubtless very easily able to guess after all, simply from how often this had happened recently, from their history.

"I keep _thinking_."

"Another _'I can't shut my mind up'_ night?"

Intuition is John. He was thinking – in the terrible pits you fell into when you hadn't _slept enough_ (or _at all_ ) _-_ he should get a sign for that. Yet, he could only sigh. After the day his little brother had had - yes, way more stressful than his he knew - he didn't want to burden the communications expert with his issues too.

"Why don't you tell me about yours?"

"You know all about mine." Yes, he did. He'd asked the exact same thing in Thunderbird One on the journey back to the island. _Damn_. Maybe he just had to divulge his fears. John was unlikely to simply back off now that he'd contacted him either, and he knew he certainly wouldn't had it been the other way around. "Why don't you tell me about yours?"

He hated it when John could do that with ease: turn his own conversation back on him. He settled into the sofa and waited a moment until the words were formulated to some degree within his head. He took a breath and settled himself with just throwing it all off his chest.

"One, you should never have gone. I should have. Or I should even have let Gordon go." It would have a least put a stop to the blonde's whining and insistence that he and John were joining Virgil against him in his pursuit of love and Alan was now his only allied brother.

"One, you know Lady Penelope wouldn't have allowed that. She was set on me going Scott and she is stubborn." _Just like you_ , were the words which remained unsaid, but definitely thought, he knew.

"Still. Two, I should have headed out there the moment we couldn't contact you."

 _Fog._ Really, what had Gordon been thinking? _Scott, what had_ you _been thinking?_

"Two, you didn't do that, because you didn't want to seem like the incredibly over protective older brother with no known reason. That and an appearance by International Rescue for no reason would have looked strange to such a large crowd."

"Ok, fair point." It occurred to him then that this was becoming a full-blown conversation, not to mention that he was getting nowhere through his – very unorganised - mental list of things. "Can I get through the list any time tonight without your contribution?"

"That depends. How long's the list?"

He sighed and raised a brow of his own. John - bless him _and_ damn him - chuckled. The list was likely long, especially if you wanted the full, exhaustive truth. That list went straight back to their father's death. And he wasn't going to dare go back that far tonight, maybe not ever. He wasn't sure he wanted to dig any or most of that back up.

"Three, I shouldn't have _let you_ go alone-"

"Three, you don't need to 'let' me, Scott, I'm not a child."

"Four, I should have made sure the security there was checked."

"It _was_ , by Parker."

"Five-"

"Is five a valid reason?" John inquired, and he was probably right too, because thinking back with as much clarity as he still had remaining, his last few reasons had been pointless rambles really; things which were on his mind, but not at all important. He was _avoiding_ the biggest reason.

Avoiding it because it scared him, because it often stopped him sleeping, because it took from them the greatest man they'd known. Because he actually _hated_ the man and didn't trust himself not to kill him if they ever met face to face again. He wondered sometimes if he could have done exactly that at the dam, because really he'd been _tempted_ – yet, another thing to contemplate which killed his sleeping pattern for a few days.

He supposed John knew what he was going to say, since it didn't seem to come as a surprise. Or maybe he'd already said it once and just not clocked it. Even as the name left his lips though, the anger ignited in his bones like it never quite did.

" _The Hood_."

"I know. He got away, but we'll get him."

"No, that's not it."

John looked slightly taken aback. He didn't know if it was his tone, or the subject matter, or just… whatever other reasons there were which he couldn't think up right now. "Then what?"

"You. He had _you_."

"Scott, _I'm_ fine."

"He _killed_ Dad, John, he can kill you."

"He _didn't_." He could tell the red-head knew where his thoughts were going before he even did. He could tell that John must have feared the same, at least temporarily – his voice shook, he was sure he didn't imagine hearing it in his usually unflappable brother's tone. He could tell that what happened to Dad still haunted the both of them.

"But he so easily could have!" It was like opening the lid on a boiling kettle, witnessing the start of a volcanic eruption. He just lost control, all of it fleeing as his mind was haunted by the image of The Hood staring his brother down. He wasn't even there, but he could hear the voice they all knew too well.

' _Who exactly are you?'_

And John had sounded so calm when he recounted the tale on their way home. He'd had to fist his hands around his flight controls in order to not smash anything and likely send them plummeting into the sea.

John had sounded so calm then and he _still_ sounded perfectly calm, _now_. "It's ok, Scott."

And there was the breaking point.

"It's not. What if he hadn't believed you?"

"He did."

"But if he hadn't. If he'd pushed further-"

"Scott-"

"Or worse, what if he'd recognised you?"

"He didn't."

"But _if_ he had! He's been here, remember John? He's seen our portraits!"

"Ok, fair point."

"So, there was every chance-"

"Maybe if I'd been wearing blue."

"John, please do not develop a sense of humour now." He was wide awake again. Or at least he felt it from the energy buzzing of his bones. Of all the times for John's brain to twig as to what humour really was… it always happened in _these_ conversations.

"Sorry, Scott. You're worrying unnecessarily though. It's over: been and done. We can't change what's happened, and we can only be thankful for what didn't."

His energy dissipated with that and he leaned back into the cushions, grumbling at John's true yet complex phrases. They probably wouldn't have even been _complex_ had he been _awake,_ not stuck in the damn middle! "Philosophical so and so."

" _It's true_."

" _I know_." He had to take another deep breath, just because his lungs suddenly felt empty.

"I just..." He kept taking another few breathes until he felt like he could speak, and all the while John waited patiently for him to find his words. "We lost Dad and I didn't want to lose you too."

Really, he'd nearly lost his direct younger brother too many times. He thought he had with the whole EOS fiasco. He thought he'd lost them all when The Hood took control of the Island, he thought… no, he didn't even entertain to think it.

"Well, you were the one to say, _'hang tight'_."

"Please don't remind me." He felt terrible for that phrasing and knew he should have moved quicker.

" _I_ believed in _you_." He wished he could have believed in himself. As he saw the Chateau falling he nearly froze. John stood out far too easily with his red hair and white tuxedo, falling too... He still couldn't recount how he'd even managed to save John. Likely it was the younger's acrobatics with falling through the atmosphere that saved him hitting the deep below.

The worst part of it all was, that he didn't doubt John had believed he'd be fine, because of _him._

He shivered earlier, unbid and caught completely unaware, when Alan and Gordon had called the elder _'Party Boy'_ in jest, because it wasn't really fitting and it reminded him too much of his own words, the rubbish joke he'd tried to make in order to hide his own nerves.

' _I've got you, Party Boy.'_

But the truth was, he very nearly _didn't_.

"Scott?"

"Yeah?" He jumped, he was sure. "What's up?"

"I'm just doing some thinking of my own."

"Oh…" He hoped he hadn't made John reconsider anything he'd let go of. "Anything particular?"

John shook his head. Their comfortable silence fell again. He folded his arms over his chest, a little bit warmer from talking to his brother, but still colder than he usually was. Their whole family was relatively warm blooded.

"You know," He wasn't sure if he did know and he desperately wanted to now the younger had said it. It had piqued his interest."

"What?"

"Sometimes I think you don't want to sleep."

He sat up at that, blinking again, his eyelids moving so much easier for the first time he could recall this evening. "Why?"

"Because you know you have no control."

That was entirely interesting. He'd never thought of it like that. It simply hadn't occurred to him to ever considered it. He wanted to know if their spaceman had thought that for a while, or just realised it now. The worst part (or maybe the best), it was likely true.

It made him think in turn though, and really, maybe they were more of a pair than they'd ever known.

"What? Like I know why you don't like being on Earth?"

"Of course you know." John did that thing were he rolled his consonants again, possibly just because he knew it would make the brunette smile. It never failed. It made the red-head sound far too much like Alan did when he whined in complaint. "Gravity."

" _No_." Now it was John's turn to blink and he looked "You don't have any control either."

After a moment, John's only answer was a firm nod, showing he agreed.

He agreed too.

It was true for them both. If he slept, he couldn't lead. If John was _on_ Earth, he couldn't be watching _them_ from the one place where he could act swiftly enough to save their lives. They'd like just hit each other's nails on the head.

He yawned again, unable to help himself. He was beginning to think he could see the moonlight dwindling, which meant it would soon swap with the rising sun. He'd didn't really want to be awake to see that.

"Scott."

"John." It was just them, their way, and it was so familiar it hardly took any effort.

 _Good,_ he thought, _because I've got none._

It suddenly seemed like his strength was draining quickly, everything feeling heavy still, but somehow lighter. John was smiling indicated simply by the sound, "Go to bed."

" _I_ will if _you_ will."

"Of course." It was childish, but then, they'd never really grown up. For International Rescue, yes; for themselves, no. They left too much behind if they accepted adulthood completely for what it was, after all.

"G' night John."

"Good night Scott."

"Night."

"Night."

"N't'."

" _Night."_

He wasn't sure how many more variations he'd spoken, forcing John to follow tact and reply before he fell blissfully asleep.

It wasn't blissful when he woke up, for John to _'advise'_ him to hunt down Gordon's camera…


End file.
